


Haunted

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes-centric, Character Death, Death, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Injury, Language, Major Character Injury, Major Character(s), Mild Language, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romantic Fluff, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 09:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19082392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: One year after a devastating mission, you and Bucky are struggling to pick up the pieces.





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Italics are flashbacks.

_ Rubble rained down from above, like an apocalyptic rainstorm. Instead of cold drops of water falling down, it was dust, hunks of concrete and brick, raggedly splitting your skin. Blood ran like water, staining the tac gear, pooling on the ground beneath you and Bucky.  _

_ He had a cut in his hairline, wide and gaping. Blood, crimson and copper, streamed down his forehead and nose, accentuating his crystalline eyes. If the two of you weren’t dying, you’d find it sexy, the contrast, the way it seeped under the lids, swirling around the iris.  _

You hadn’t been the same since it happened, the catastrophic mission that left you and the team reeling. You wanted to join the team, to go on the next mission, to help save the lives of those that needed it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Not only the compound, but your room, the one you shared with Bucky. 

Oh, you had tried leaving, but whenever your hand was about to touch the metal knob, it started shaking and your heart started pounding. Your vision swam and the floor shifted, your knees trembled and your stomach pitched. The voices from the people in the halls amplified and echoed, compounding until you couldn’t take it anymore. You fell to the floor, hands and knees, back arched, forehead skimming the carpet as you cried. 

“I can’t do this,” you sobbed. 

_ “Hang on, doll,” he said, voice thick with blood and pain, hand scrambling through the rubble.  _

_ You were gasping for air, lungs squeezing tight, rasping, unwilling to expand further due to the weight on your chest.  _

_ “I… I’m ri- right here,” you stuttered, tasting blood. Tears streamed down your face when his knuckles grazed against yours.  _

_ He gave a small smile as your shaking fingers laced together. “S- stay with m- me.” _

“Hey, doll,” he purred, emerging from the bathroom. 

“Hey.” You gave him a weak smile and tugged the sweater tighter around yourself. 

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed with a heaving sigh. “Bad day?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Same old, same old. You?”

“Not too bad. Sparred with Steve and Clint for a while, tried showing the kid around. He got so damn excited,” Bucky laughed ruefully. 

You weren’t the only one different after last year. Bucky had been cool, distant, hardly willing to look you in the eyes, only doing so when you got mad about it, and when he did, what you saw stole the breath from your lungs. He wasn’t the man you fell in love with, the man you vowed to spend the rest of your life on this Earth loving. He was slipping back into being The Winter Soldier; vengeful, calculated, ready and willing to burn everything to the ground no matter the cost. 

_ “Hey,” Bucky barked, hand shaking yours. “You ain’t le- leavin’ me so ea- easy.” _

_ Your eyes rolled back as you struggled to stay conscious. “Whe- where are they, Bu- Buck?” _

_ Steve had been in your ear at the time of the explosion, assuring you, “We’re close. Just a few minutes.” That last communication felt like hours ago.  _

_ A long and low moan escaped Bucky and it drove a shiver down your spine. “Don’t leave me, Ba- Barnes,” you gasped.  _

_ “I’m here, do- doll.” _

Bucky was looking at his hands as they flexed. He was fidgeting with something you couldn’t quite focus on, something you felt drawn to. His wide shoulders shook as he drew in deep breath after deep breath, sniffles leaving him as tears streamed down his face. 

“Bucky?” Your voice was soft, too soft. It trembled almost as much as your hands. “What’s the matter?”

He scraped a hand over his face and glanced at you. “I can’t do this, baby.”

It felt as if there were a hummingbird trapped in your chest, in your throat, in the pit of your stomach. “What do you mean?”

“This, us,” he ground out. “It’s not right, not healthy.” 

You knew this day was coming, when he realized it was time to move on. You wished you had more time. 

_ “Almost there!”  _

_ It was Steve, pulling you from the rubble, hands hooked in your armpits, feet propped against the concrete for leverage. Pain exploded in your thigh, white-hot, a flash grenade of agony burning through your muscles and marrow.  _

_ “Stop,” you screamed, blood flowing from your mouth. Your head lolled to the side as you searched for Bucky. “Whe- where is he?!” _

_ “On the jet,” Steve grunted, still pulling.  _

_ “Is he… is he dead?”  _

_ Steve’s heart skipped, you could hear it over the rushing of your blood as it oozed out of your wounds. “I don’t know.” _

“Please don’t do this,” you begged, falling to your knees in front of him. You tried touching him, covering his hands with your own, but he pulled away. Even a year later, he couldn’t stand to have you touch him.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky lamented, eyes drowning in tears. “I’ve let this go on for too long.”

A sob tore its way out of you. “I lost you once, Buck. I can’t do it again.”

_ Dr. Cho was working feverishly to save him, to staunch the blood flow. “Come on, come on,” she ground out, haphazardly sewing his skin together. His body had suffered too much damage at one time. Super soldier serum or not, he was losing too much blood. He was dying. _

_ Steve carried you onto the jet and set you on a gurney just like Bucky’s. While three sets of hands went to work; ripping off the tac gear, assessing your injuries, you watched in horror as the light in Bucky’s eyes dimmed and the last of the color drained from his face. Your name was a breathless whisper on his lips moments before Dr. Cho called time of death.  _

Bucky sat up straight and looked at you as if you’d lost your mind. “You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”

“You are  _ now _ ,” you sighed sadly. “But last year, on the jet. Buck, I watched you die.”

_ A week after Bucky died, four days after the funeral, you were lying on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. He was gone. He was gone and he was never coming back. You twirled the gold ring around your ring finger, remembering the second it was placed there. Bucky had looked at you with so much love and adoration it made you feel as if you were floating. Who knew that six months later you’d be burying the love of your life? _

_ You felt someone in the room, standing there, staring at you. When you wiped away the tears and your brain registered who it was, you bolted out of the bed and jumped into his arms. Instead of feeling the heavy comfort of them around your waist, you fell through him and hit the floor.  _

_ Bucky looked down at you, shock and fear swirling in his eyes. “What the fuck?” _

_ “No,” you cried, head shaking, pushing off the floor. You reached out and tried touching him, tried grabbing the hand he held out but, once again, you moved right through him.  _

_ Whatever cruel jokes the gods had played on you in the past, this was a new low. You may have had your husband back, but he was a ghost.  _

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked harshly, eyes narrowed. 

“On the jet,” you repeated, standing when his legs started twitching. “Cho couldn’t save you.”

He pushed off the bed and ran a hand through his hair. “No, that’s not right.”

“And then a week after the funeral, you show up, out of thin air.” Tears were blurring your vision as you reached for him, wincing when your fingers floated through his shoulder. “You may be a ghost, Buck, but I can’t live without you.” 

“No,” he said again. Bucky stood in front of you and skimmed the back of his hand down your damp cheek. Only, you didn’t feel his touch. Instead, it was as if a cool wind brushed against you. 

_ Steve carried you onto the jet and set you on a gurney just like Bucky’s. While Dr. Cho worked on Bucky, flesh and metal hands tore at your tac gear and assessed the extent of your injuries. They did their best to stitch you up, to repair the damage that had been done, but they couldn’t work fast enough.  _

“Baby, you got it wrong. I’m not the ghost. You are.”

The floor under your feet shifted. What was he talking about? Your mind spun painfully and God, when did it get so hot? 

_ Bucky’s eyes found yours and he was reaching for your hand, horror in his eyes as you started shivering, as the chilled fingers of death danced up your spine and gripped your heart. Your name was a breathless whisper on his lips, pleading for you to stay, to hold on just a little bit longer.  _

_ I love you was what you wanted to say, but all that came out was a wheezing rush of air accompanied by blood, dripping from your nose and mouth. Bucky, grief-stricken and crying, faded away until there was nothing but darkness. _

You buried your hands in your hair as you sat on the edge of the bed, chest heaving, panic settling heavy on your shoulders and the base of your neck. “How is this happening?” you murmured. 

Bucky dropped next to you on the bed. “I don’t know, doll. Unfinished business?”

_ You tried following Bucky out of the room but for some reason, you were unable to cross the threshold. You were rooted to the spot, grief washing over you, consuming you. You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, but when Bucky came back, it felt as if you could finally breathe. _

The sound of metal on metal got your attention. Your eyes snapped to Bucky’s left hand where your wedding band rested around the top of his index finger. He was absentmindedly spinning it around with his thumb. Holding your breath, you raised your left hand and found your ring finger naked, a tan line the only evidence that you had once worn a ring. 

_ After crying for hours, Bucky was finally asleep, his breathing ragged and shallow. You crawled onto the bed and held your hand over his heart. Holding your breath, you focused on the rise and fall of his chest, on the  _ **_thud-thud-thud_ ** _ of his heartbeat. When you lowered your hand, it moved through him as if he were made of nothing more than air. _

“It was there,” you gasped, staring at the strip of pale skin. “I swear.”

“Dr. Cho removed it before, uh, before the cremation,” he informed you, voice heavy and cracking. 

You shoved off the bed and grit your teeth. “No. It doesn’t make any sense!”

Bucky dug out a pamphlet from the desk and held it out for you to see. “It was your funeral that I showed up after,” he informed you. “I had tried coming back sooner, but… I just couldn’t do it.”

There was a picture of you on the front. Below it was your name, the date, time, and location the funeral had been held at, followed by the span of years in which you had lived. 

“Whatever joke you’re playing, Buck,” you growled. “It’s not funny.”

Bucky scoffed and slapped the pamphlet onto the desk. “You think I’d play this kind of joke you? Baby, I… I would never. Not  _ this _ .” 

_ Bucky, wearing a black suit and his hair pulled back into a low bun, looked down at you, shock and fear swirling in his eyes. “What the fuck?” _

_ “No,” you cried, head shaking, pushing off the floor. You reached out and tried touching him, tried grabbing the hand he held out but, once again, you moved right through him.  _

_ Bucky jumped back, shaking hand held out in front of him. “Stay back. Whatever the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ you are, stay  _ **_back_ ** _.” _

_ “What are you… baby, it’s me,” you insisted, hands pressed to your chest.  _

_ WIthout another word, Bucky turned and ran out of the room as if death itself were chasing him. You tried following him, but for some reason you were unable to cross the threshold. You were rooted to the spot, grief washing over you, consuming you.  _

_ Day after day, you tried opening the door after Bucky left, but panic set in just as you were about to grip the knob. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t  _ **_move_ ** _. You fell to the floor, on your hands and knees, sobbing until exhaustion overtook you.  _

Disbelief coursed white-hot through your veins as you reached for the funeral pamphlet. “If I were a ghost, as you say, why can I do -.” You shrieked in surprise as your hand moved through the desk. You pulled it back and stared at it as if it were a foreign object. 

“What… what’s happening?” you choked, dropping to your knees. 

Bucky was in front of you, tears swimming in his eyes. “Your femoral artery was cut when Steve pulled you out of the wreckage. Even if it hadn’t been, the damage had already been done. Your body was shutting down.”

_ Pain exploded in your thigh, white-hot, a flash grenade of agony burning through your muscles and marrow. _

“But… what about  _ you _ ? I  _ saw _ you die.” 

“Probably,” he admitted softly. “I was losing more blood than could they could replace.” 

_ You watched in horror as the light in Bucky’s eyes dimmed and the last of the color drained from his face. _

“Bucky?” you sobbed, eyes squeezed closed, hunched over, rocking back and forth. “Help me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Let go, baby,” he murmured sadly, setting the ring on the floor in front of you. “For both our sakes.”

You pulled in a deep and shuddering breath, then another, and another. After the wedding band slowly came into focus, you sat up and wiped the tears from your face. He was right. It wasn’t healthy for either of you. You, hanging around the compound as if it were purgatory. Bucky, literally sleeping with the ghost of his dead wife. As badly as you wanted to stay and spend the rest of time with Bucky, you  _ needed _ to let him go. 

Like warm water, Peace and acceptance washed over you, driving away the cold tendrils of fear and anger. Humming, you smiled at your husband. 

“It’s time for me to go.” 

Tears shined in his eyes, spilling over as he nodded. “Yeah, baby. It is.” He snagged your ring from the floor and moved to pocket it.

“No,” you murmured. “It needs to be destroyed.”

Bucky swallowed hard. “Why?”

“It’s what I’m attached to,” you answered. “As long as it’s it one piece, I can’t move on.” 

“So, it’s my fault you’re here,” he noted.

“Baby, no,” you assured him, voice shaking and thick. “I was in denial about it, twisting the reality of the situation in my head until I couldn’t see straight. But I’m ready now, and in order for me to let go, you have to let go, too.” 

Bucky’s face fell as he cried. Holding your breath, you reached out a shaking hand and rested it on Bucky’s shoulder. When contact was made, the air burst out of you in a celebratory-yet-mournful cry. He wrapped his arms around you and hauled you into him, hugging you tighter than he did when you were alive. You clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders and back, face buried in his neck, kissing the whiskered skin, up and up until your mouth found his. 

You had forgotten a lot about Bucky, but when you kissed him, everything came rushing back. The memories made it hard to pull back, to extract yourself from Bucky’s grip, but you made yourself do it. Panting, you rested your forehead against his, sliding your fingers through his hair. 

“Please, Bucky,” you begged, heart hammering against your ribs. “Destroy it.”

He sucked in a ragged breath and nodded. “Okay, doll. Okay.”

Gold  _ clinked _ almost silently against vibranium as Bucky palmed the ring. You cupped his hand in yours and urged his fingers closed. He could have stopped you if he really wanted to. Turned out, he just needed a little push. Tears streamed down his face and he found it hard to breathe as he tightened his grip, as the ring was crushed into oblivion. 

You felt it, the tug deep in your gut, pulling you away from Bucky. It was time to go. “Bucky, baby,” you cooed, curling your finger under his trembling chin. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, doll,” he choked. With his flesh hand on the back of your neck, he captured your lips in a firm kiss as you slowly disappeared. 


End file.
